


Spirits of fire

by DaydreamBelieversDaughter



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breathplay, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamBelieversDaughter/pseuds/DaydreamBelieversDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To learn the secret craft of Aman, Feanor begins training under the best craftsman in the house of aule.<br/>Soon it is clear that Mairon has more to teach him than creating magical gems.<br/>He offers great knowledge, but he asks for the Noldos submission in return.<br/>How far is the young prince willing to go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirits of fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cirilla9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/gifts).



> Takes place before Feanor gets married. So he is still pretty young and callow. He just finished his training as a smith and had no chance to achieve anything yet. He still lives with his father. I use quenya names: Fëanáro/Feanor, Maitimo/Maedhros

Spirits of Fire 

The first impact was always thrilling. It started with a warm tickle at the back of his mind and swiftly run down his spine. Filling his body and soul with increasing, white-hot energy. “Easy, give yourself time to expand”, the deep voice right behind him ordered.  
Despite feeling the warm breath against his ear, Fëanáro heard the words only in his mind, his ears filled with the thunderous beat of his racing pulse. His brain was still swinging between rejecting the invasive force and allowing it in deeper.  
“Take the heat in, make it your own”, Mairon instructed.“Let yourself be filled.”  
He was working with the Maiar for a couple of month now. And while he found him too arrogant and patronizing for his taste, he was a good teacher and an excellent craftsman. With a shakily breath he willed himself to relax and open enough for them to proceed.  
“Yes, that's better”, the other said pleased. “Enjoy the process.”  
Fëanáro rolled his eyes. He did, as a matter of fact, too much enjoyed it. Even so his body was shaking with the effort, he craved more of it. Sweat run down his face and over his torso. The wet trails instantly evaporated in the hot air of the forge, bringing no cooling to the flushed skin. The fires in the furnaces burned hotter today than on ordinary workdays. All doorways to the forge were firmly closed, only the chimneys were left open to keep the room from being filled with smoke. Not that his companion would be bothered, but the Noldo had some trouble breathing in the heavy air already. Despite being well used to the forge. This was the place Mairon used for his own crafts, it was small and secluded. The dark stone the room was carved from was always hot to the touch, even when the fireplaces were cold. None of their earlier practice had been as time consuming and intense as this one. They had extended the preparation, let the heat raise slowly. Fëanáro was way too thrilled to feel anything beside excitement yet, but this was getting arduously, even for him. He yearned to finish.  
“Let me take over from here”, he demanded and reached behind him.  
“If you think you are ready, do it yourself”, Mairon agreed and pulled back a little. Gathering his willpower to keep his hands steady and the movements controlled, Fëanáro took hold of the heavy tongs. Focussing his eyes on the gem he was holding into the fire.  
They had chosen a diamond for its ability to absorb heat, without reflecting it. A former treatment in the oven had enhanced the colour and cleanliness, as well as made it more fragile. The perfect set-up to wave energy into it.  
It was necessary for the fusion between solids and elements to compress both to their purest form and synchronize their frequencies. All energy was vibrating with a frequency of its own, defining its form and function. It was the secret art of the craftsman in Aman to blend energy with metal or gems, to give their creations traits beyond their original form. By adding the element water to metal, rigid chains and colliers became fluid and graceful. Air made the heaviest armour weightless and earth the most fragile jewellery resilient.  
Repeating the words of power he had learned some while ago, he concentrated the energy Mairon had transferred to him, while simultaneously open the structure of the diamond to wave it in.  
His attention was fixed on the crystal, but he could still feel the other watching him, noticing every movement. Waiting for him to make a mistake.  
This was the highest craft taught in the house of Aule. Only very few smiths had the mental ability, willpower and knowledge to complete the process. One of them being Mathan, his mentor. The best, next to Aule, was the man standing next to him: Mairon, a craftsman of great power. His creations in Arda were praised and he was renown for his perfectionism. Most times he worked on his own, sometimes with Aule, seldom with the other Maiar. Only as a favour for Mathan (requested by lord Aule), he had taken the prince in his training.  
Focusing on the diamond he poured the first stream of energy in the gaps the spell opened. The diamond started to vibrate. He had to solidify the energy further. As always when he applied more pressure on the element, it expanded forcefully. Overwhelming him with intensity. He could already feel his hold on it slipping.  
The intensity became painful, while he fought the instinct to release the power uncontrolled. The frequencies drifted apart, the energy expanded and he couldn't keep it any longer. The bright crystal he was holding over the fire cracked and turned dull.  
"You failed", the Maiar stated dryly. “Again.”  
To hide his own disappointment, Fëanáro put the tool with the now worthless diamond aside and turned to the water basin to splash fresh water over his face. His work shirt was soaked and his pulse was still racing. Days of hard work ruined in the blink of an eye. He was angry and confused over the fact that fire, of all the elements, was giving him so much resistance.  
"It´s not that fire resist you that causes your problems", Mairon dissented. "It´s that you resist it.”  
"Stay out of my thoughts", the Noldo hissed angry. He was still too upset to discuss the failed attempt, let alone being lectured about his mistakes.  
"Stop thinking so loud then", Mairon said amused. Furious with himself for his poor results and the Maiar for his annoying supremacy Fëanáro untied the apron and tossed it aside. All in him screamed to either run out and slam the door or give the arrogant bastard a piece of his mind about him and his lot. But he know in the still rational part of his mind that this would be a mistake. He wanted to learn this and he wanted to learn it from the best.  
“You have a very strong will”, Mairon pondered, rounding the anvil to pick up the broken crystal. “But you are lacking self-control.” With envy Fëanáro watched the Maiar inspecting the gem, that was still way too hot for him to touch, even with the heavy gloves lying next to the anvil. "You understand the process, but after several tries you still not getting any better”  
Reaching out he brushed a wet strand of hair from the Noldo's temple behind his ear. The Prince had already opened his mouth for a harsh comeback, but the unexpected touch on his heated skin send goosebumps over his body and let the words die on his lips.  
“Now, for example you waste energy being angry with the world”, Mairon said provocative, “instead of using it to find the reason for your failure.”  
“Do you thing me stupid?” Fëanáro almost growled.“If I had any idea what I had done wrong the last 10 times, I would have succeeded by now.”  
“Maybe you are not ready yet”, the Maiar continued without paying further attention to him. “Take some more years to grow as a person, focus on some other practises for a while. I don't think I can teach you anymore.” With that he put the once beautiful gem on a stone shelf that hosted several broken, useless crystals already. And turned to leave.  
Quickly Fëanáro blocked his way. “You can´t leave me like that. I will try harder. I finish the last crystal even if it takes me years.”  
“Your determination is admirable", Mairon said frowning, “but you choose the wrong approach. You give oil into the fire and expect it to become easier to control. Please tell me you see that this can't possibly work or I see no hope for your learning process.”  
“I understand”, Fëanáro sighed. “I feel the fire revolting more, the harder I try to tame it. I just don´t understand why”  
“Because you are afraid of it.”  
“Why would I?”, Fëanáro said upset. “Am I not named as a carrier of fire? Should it not yield to me?”  
“You are indeed bound to fire”, Mairon confirmed. “But its not meant to surrender to you, you are meant to surrender to it.”  
“I do not surrender to anything or anyone!”, the Noldo declared.  
“If that's your last word, this will never work for you.”, Mairon said disappointed. “You can not learn and grow if you're afraid to leave your comfort zone.” The words hit a nerve. Fëanáro was proud on the fact that he was not spoilt, that he challenged himself and not walked the easy path his high birth could open him.  
“Make your choice, Prince”, the Maiar demanded. “Face your fears or stop wasting my time.” Fëanáro saw no other way, he desperately wanted to master this craft, so he nodded. He would trust the Maiar´s lead, for now. With a pleased smile the Maiar gestured to the great fireplace in the middle of the room. 

“Fix your eyes on the flames and concentrate on your breathing.” With every breath Fëanáro felt the anger and disappointment reducing a little. Watching the dance of the flames had always been soothing to him. He was so absorbed in it, that he twitched when a soft cloth laid over his eyes.  
“This helps to focus your attention”, Mairon explained. The cloth let only little light through, but Fëanáro still saw the dancing flames in his mind. Than the picture changed. He saw the beginning of Arda. Mountains growing and falling with the movements of earth and stone. And he saw Fire. Not the way he was used to it in the forge. This was a real elemental force. Mighty, unstoppable, dangerous.  
"This is how fire exist naturally, untamed”, Mairon explained. “Everything you know is a feeble reflection of this. Fire creates by destruction, it fights to expand. This is the force you want to bind to your soul.” The vision of fire faded.  
“I don't wish to be destructive.”, the Noldo frowned. “I wish to contribute in making everything better and more beautiful. When things are flawed I want to find ways to improve them.”  
“I understand, young prince, I really do”, Mairon agreed. “But don't be afraid to destroy in order to create. That's what fire does. Fire builds, it nourishes and it gives energy, but in return it burns the ground that feeds it. And that's good too, for the ground will be stronger afterwards. You can be the greatest craftsman of your folk, but you must overcome your limitations. Stop being afraid of your passion.”  
A shiver run through the young prince "You don't know me well enough to give such advice."  
"Maybe not, but I know fire. Tell me son of Finwë, have you ever been taken by another man?”, Mairon asked suddenly.  
“No”, Fëanáro said tensing, surprise by the question, “and I plan to keep it that way. I do not yield.”  
“In order to become great, you must be willing to yield. To unleash your own fire, you have to give up control. Go all in and see where your passion can lead you. That's how great skill works, that's how everything creative in life works. You must be willing to be consumed by it, altered by it. If you be able at any moment to scarifies what you are, for what you will become, than there is no limit to the heights of your achievements.” 

The words stirred something mighty inside Feanaros mind. He still had no idea how giving up control, could help him to gain more,  
but he had tried everything else to no avail.  
"Will it make me stronger?", he asked. "Capable of mastering the fire transfer?"  
“It will!”, Mairon assured. “ But be warned prince, it is not without danger. Once your expand yourself, you can never go back to not knowing. Your spirit will push you to the limits of your endurance and beyond if it will benefit your strength. That's the price for growth.”  
“Teach me”, Fëanáro demanded. “I want to know what I am capable of. I don´t count the cost, I pay whatever the price is.”  
“Are you ready to surrender yourself?”, Mairon asked. “No, but I do it anyway.”  
With a soft touch over the back of the Noldo's shirt the fabric vanished. Fresh air cooled the sweat on his skin.  
Two strong hands came to rest on his tense shoulders, slowly kneading the hard muscles.  
“You are strong in body and spirit”, the Maiar mused. “I bet many yearned for you.”  
“They might, Fëanáro answered haughty, “but that is no concern of mine.”  
“Good, it is crucial in order to be great, to separate yourself from other people”, Mairon continued, while his hand brushed the wet hair aside. With his other hand he traced the hem of the thick pants the Noldo wore for smiting and like the shirt before, it dissolved. Leaving Fëanáro bare, down to his boots.  
To stand naked in front of the other male, deprived of sight, was a little unease.  
“Pleasure yourself”, Mairon ordered. “I know that you have been hart for a while. This kind of work always stirrers the flesh of those who love to forge.”  
It was true, the prince often left the forge in a state of high arousal. The work raved his body as much as his mind. His hard cock felt overly sensitive in the too hot air and his hand was raw from the work before. It felt very good thou. His passion intensified now that he paid attention to it.  
The Maiar continued to caress his body meticulous, like a gem he scanned for flaws. He felt soft hair brush over his arms when Mairon bend down to lick sweat from his temple. The touch was so intimate that Fëanáro flinched from it.  
A strong arm wrapped around him, keeping him close. The hand sprawled over his abdomen, inches above his own, rhythmical stroking.  
Dry lips kissed a trail down his neck, licking and sucking small spots on the way down.  
Without warning the Maiar pulled him tight against his body, no longer covered with fabric.  
To feel the others skin was different from what he had expected. It was dry, not as soft as elvish skin, but smooth like polished stone. It radiated waves of heat.  
He wondered what the Maiar might look like, without his pretty human shell.  
“One day I might show you”, the other whispered, aware how much it aroused the elf to feel the words mouthed against his ear.  
Fëanáro was not entirely inexperienced with other males. He had enjoyed the needs of his body with some of his closer colleges. Luckily most craftsmen saw the fellow smith in him, rather than the prince. Many nobles were eager to cater to his pleasure since his coming of age, but he was very selective with his lovers. Least he wanted was someone to boast or gossip about this at court. He seldom fucked his lovers. To feel someone so close was more intimate than he wished to be with most people. Usually touches were enough to satisfy his need until he was alone.  
He had often wondered what kind of pleasure his lovers were feeling when he pushed into their bodies. What sensation made them moan and beg for more.  
To allow someone to use him like that was out of question. Well until now, it was.  
Knowing what was about to come, he startled less to feel wet fingers push against his opening. He had not seen the Maiar taking oil or salve from some place, but the finger slowly invading him was slick and parted his flesh easily. It was good that he was exhausted and raved up from work, had he been rested and more mental alert, he surely had panicked at this point. “Are you still enjoying this?”, Mairon voice echoed through his mind “Do you want more?”  
Fëanáro found that he did. While his mind still struggled with the mixed sensation, his body was reveling in it.  
Feeling the others arousal brush against his thigh made him wonder about Mairon´s desire for him. It has not been apparent to him that the Maiar, who were not tied to their bodies the way the Eldar were, felt the same need for body contact.  
“Have no doubt, Noldo, that I desire you.” Mairon purred into his ear. “While its true that I want to touch your mind more than your body, I yearn to see you undone. Passion attracts me and you have so much of it. More than many of your folk and most of mine.”  
Adding a second finger, Mairon had managed to distract him enough to stretch him open without resistance. The prodding movements inside him shifted from mildly uncomfortable, to sharp pleasure. He felt warm wetness running over his hand. A sweet yearning had overcome him, the impulse to stroke himself harder and faster telling him that he was wrapped tidy into his lust. There was no other way left, but to find release.  
“Stop touching yourself”, Mairon commanded and pulled the hand working over the elf length to his mouths to taste the Noldo's arousal.  
“From now on I will deliver you your pleasure.” Pulling his fingers out of Feanaros tight ass, he replaced it with the tip of his cock. “And you will take as much as your body can bare.” Nodding Fëanáro tensed when the Maiar opened the leather cord that bound the hair away from his face and tied both hands behind his back. “This will help intensify the feeling”, Mairon declared. Wrapping his arm around the others hip, he lifted him a bit to gain better access.

“That was not part of what I have agreed to”, Fëanáro answered back, breathing heavy.  
“You have agreed to give up control and I make sure you will”, the Maiar objected, slowly pushing deeper. There was nothing the elf could say to deny it.  
He was as afraid of the experience as he was longing for it. It took long before Mairon had completely filled the Noldo's body. Moving deliberately slow and measured to make sure he felt every inch if it. Being stretched like this was alarming, but it was the willingness with which his body was welcoming the sensation that startled Fëanáro the most. He had had no idea until now how much he wanted this.  
Mairon paused for a moment giving him the chance to savour the feeling. When he moved again he did so harder and deeper.  
Pulling out almost completely, to push back in one swift stroke. With his hands tied Fëanáro had no way to control the movement.  
His hair had come loose, swaying around his face. Standing on his toes he had no safe stand and with every trust he was lifted closer to the Maiar.  
He was well build for an elf, but the other hold him effortless. Curling a hand in his hair, Mairon bend his upper body down.  
His strokes became harder, more aimed and Fëanáro felt waves of pleasure rock his body. He tried to stay quiet apart from his frantic breath.  
Inside him lust and need concentrated, the familiar surge telling him that he was close to his release.  
But as intense as the feeling was, it was not enough to push him ever the edge. His hands pulsed between the heat of his rushing blood and the numbness from the tied cord. The muscles in his legs and back were aching with tension. The fast pace drove him wild, pre-come dripping on the floor, but he needed more.  
“There is still a part of you that wants to keep control, that refuses to let go. Mairon advised. Overcome your fear and give in.”  
“How?”, he asked into the clouded mess that was his lust filled mind. 

Instead of an answer the Maiar let his fingertips brush over the Noldo's parted lips. Without further encouragement Fëanáro began to lick and suck them.  
Another thing he had never tried, it crossed his mind, to allow someone to fuck his mouth. He had given pleasure with his lips and tongue before, but never actually  
sucked a hard shaft. The idea was strange, yet alluring, to be used like this. Unintended he started to make noise, soft at first, but the more the fingers teased  
between his parted lips the louder his moans turned. The Maiar suddenly stopped playing with his wet tongue and instead laid his hand firm over his mouth and nose. Effectively cutting off his breath. After a few seconds Fëanáro was light headed.  
The deep strokes had not decrease even a little. If possible he was fucked harder. Blood rushing in his ears, he felt like falling backwards into nothingness.  
“Please”, he whispered in his mind, not sure what he was begging for. Instantly he was able to breathe again.  
Gasping he shuddered when a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking hart. Once, twice and his orgasm hit him so hard, he might have past out from the pleasure.  
It felt like his hole world narrowed down to the stream of hot seed purring over the others hand.  
The restriction from the cord fell away, the hands on his body removed. Dazed he sank to the floor, his body shaking violently. Slowly his senses returned to their normal function. Yet something felt wrong. “Open your eyes young prince”, he heard the voice of the Maiar above him.  
He removed the blindfold and blinked a few times in the sudden light. Fëanáro found himself not kneeling on the floor anymore, but standing in front of the fireplace.  
The burning sensation was gone, likewise the pain. What remained was the soreness in his muscles and the sweat soaking his...clothes.  
He realised that he was fully dressed again. Even his hair was tied back the way it was before. Turning he faced the Maiar who was likewise dressed  
and looked no different than before. Well, except for his smug smile. Only than Fëanáro realised what was missing.  
The afterglow of his release, as well as the exquisite pain of his first time were simply gone. And the memory slowly faded from his mind, like a dream.  
"It wasn't real!", he whispered unbelieving.  
“Just because it happened only in your head does not mean it was not real”, Mairon said smiling. “It sure felt very real for you and it was a pleasure watching for me.” “Watching?”, Fëanáro wondered. “But this illusion came from you.”  
“I started it, but you carried it on. You wanted this, needed it.  
The more power a person holds, the greater the need to unleash it. This is the nature of fire.  
If you resist it, it causes fear. And fear is the enemy of great achievements. Always face your fears, your secret wishes, the dark places in your soul.  
Only when you learn to nourish your passion to the fullest, while simultaneously not being afraid where it leads you, you have understand the lesson.  
To use fire you must devote yourself to it. Fire knows no boundary and no master, it only ever serves itself.  
I hope to see you again in a while. When you have rested we will repeat the transfer spell. This time you will succeed.” With this the Maiar left.  
Collecting his tools Fëanáro pondered the lesson he had learned. Some new thoughts had taken root inside him. He needed some time to sort them out.

 

The jewellery was perfect. A flawless, brilliant cut ruby with eight small diamonds framing it, intensifying its glow.  
It was a fine piece of art, but its true value lay hidden. Inside every diamond was a flame enclosed. Each strong enough to burn a house to ashes.  
His first magic jewels.  
In the past month so much had changed in his life. Mairon had been right, he was not the same person he had been when he started his lessons.  
In the weeks following his failure he had made up his mind about himself and his future. He had chosen his way and followed it relentless since. No more compromises.  
By now he could summon all elements and bind them into every object he wanted. The Maiar had been pleased and after several more successful lessons, released him as a true master of the craft. Despite his appreciation for the knowledge he had gained, Fëanáro had never sought advice in the house of Aule again. 

His personal life had changed much as well. He had permanently moved away from court, much to his father's displeasure. It was for the best thou. He wished to establish a life by his own rules and expectations. Especially now that he had started a family. He had married the daughter of his former mentor.  
A woman equal to him in will and curiosity, a talented and passionate artist. Together they would change the world. They were both still very young, but he had seen no use in waiting any longer. There was somuch to archieve. Their life together was exciting and fulfilling.  
All the more since she had endowed him with the most perfect treasure, his first-born Son. Looking down to the small baby in the cradle, he still couldn't believe how blessed he was. He planned to extend their family soon, but this child was their first. His heir. And the collier was his first gift to him. Of cause he was too young to wear it yet, even so the golden chain magical adjusted to the one bearing it. He would give it to him when he started to mature. It carried not only the fire from the forge, but also some of his very own.  
"May your will always be strong and your heart always stay stubborn, Maitimo Fëanárion", he whispered affectionately. "You shall carry on the spirit of fire."


End file.
